


Bain

by wesseling



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Dark, Gen, Insanity, Madness, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesseling/pseuds/wesseling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is in a small room all by himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bain

 

Two big hands pushed him inside the small tiled room and quickly closed the door behind him. Sam turned around to face the white wooden door and heard a click that meant that the door had just been locked.

He didn’t worry though because right under the handle there was the lock mechanism and if he wanted he would be able to open up again.

Curiously he checked out the room he was in.

It was obviously a bathroom. There was a grey toilet with a pedestal behind it and three rolls of toiletpaper on top of it. The tiles on the wall and the floor were marble, white and grey colored and everything looked very clean.

_Why am I in here?,_ he asked himself. He didn’t need to go, he knew that.

So why was he pushed in here? And by whom?

Sam decided it was time to get out. He faced the door again wanting to unlock it only to find out that the lock had vanished. A little confused he pushed down the handle.

He pulled. Nothing.

He pushed. Nothing.

He bent down and peeked between the door frame and the door. There it was, the bar that trapped him in here.

He straightened himself up again going for the handle thinking that maybe with force he’d be able to break the door down or at least somebody would hear him and let him out.

But to his surprise the handle had disappeared as well. With his hand he ran over the spot where the silver handle had just been seconds ago. He turned around again. There were only tiles from the bottom up to the ceiling. No window. No other way out. He looked up at the ceiling. It was built with these typical square chipboards which could easily be removed. So maybe he could just climb up there. Make this his exit. With this in mind he wanted to step up on the lid and wondered why his foot never made contact.

The explanation was the toilet was no longer there, nor was the pedestal.

Now panic was beginning to rise within Sam.

_Relax_ , he told himself. _You can still support yourself on the wall and push yourself up._

He lifted one foot, stretched out his arms to bear his weight and steadied himself between the walls beginning to climb up.

When he had made it half way he looked up and found out the ceiling had changed. It was no longer subdivided in six approximately 40 x 40 cm even plates, but it was tiled, too. Sam let himself slip down the walls, his heart racing as if he had just run a 100 m sprint.

With clenched fists he banged on the door.

“Hello? Is somebody there? I’m locked in. Can somebody please open the door?”

A noise behind him made Sam jump. He turned around in an instant but nothing was there – just the white-grey marble tiles. He could hear his blood rushing through his ears. His heart was in his mouth. His brain desperately trying to make out what was going on. When he was sure that nobody and nothing was in here with him he directed his attention back to his only hope of escape. But his hope was dashed.

The door had vanished. In fact the whole side of the wall had been plastered over with thick white leather. Sam felt it and leaned against it. It was soft. And cold.

What the hell was going on here?

He wanted to get out!

He needed to get out!

All of a sudden he felt dizzy, his sight swimming. He bowed his head, taking deep breaths, regaining some energy.

“I want to get out. Let me out! LET ME OUT!”

He began shouting, hammering his fists against the cushioned wall, his feet stomping on the now padded floor.

He was no longer wearing shoes he realized. And though he couldn’t remember what color his clothes had been he was damned sure it wasn’t white.

He didn’t care about controlling his fear anymore. Spinning around in the room detecting that every wall looked the same he let panic take over. Adrenalin pushing him over the edge.

 

Though his muffled screams couldn’t be heard from the outside of his padded cell.


End file.
